


Submarine Races

by BlueMinuet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, elaborate shows of red affection, submarine racing, totally a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMinuet/pseuds/BlueMinuet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dirk invites Equius to watch a submarine race with him and Equius rightfully wonders if he's been hornswoggled.</p>
<p>There is a % chance that he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submarine Races

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this a warm-up for the 2013 [Homestuck Shipping World Cup](http://cyanokit.tumblr.com/post/50426219364)!  
> [Team Dirk<3Equius](http://blueminuet.tumblr.com/post/50991880446/if-anyone-out-there-is-looking-for-a-team-for) is still looking for members if you want to compete!

You sit down on the sparse grass of the levy, and stare down at the man-made canal before you. It’s not exactly the most beautiful of sights, but the reflection of the moon and they city’s lights in the water make it look pretty decent. There’s a small tree not far behind you too. Overall, this is a pretty piss-poor example of the great outdoors, but it’s the best you can do in the city. 

With a bit of hesitation, Equius sits down beside you. He has his shades on, but you can still see the look of confusion on his face as he regards the water. He slips his shades just slightly down the bridge of his nose to look at the canal, and you catch just a hint of his baby-blues. 

“What are we doing out here again?” he asks you. 

You give him one of your best exasperated sighs. “Geez, Big Guy, you forgot already? I’ve told you about a million times. We’re going to watch a submarine race. It’s an Earth sport. You’ll love it.” 

He blinks at you before pushing his shades back up, obscuring his face again. “Yes. I did remember you saying that. However, I see no submarines.” 

You make a show of rolling your eyes so hard that your head rolls with them, just to make sure that your pointy shades don’t hide your ironic gesture. “Well, of course you can’t see them. They’re submarines. They’re under the water. That’s kind of the entire point of their existence.” 

He nods at you. “Yes. However, I assumed that if the point of this event was to watch them test the speed and efficiency of the machines, there would be some sort of way for observers to watch their progress. For example, some sort of above-water buoy perhaps, or even a simple light.”

You shake your head. “No can do. See, any of that stuff would just muck up the entire thing. There’s tradition to be upheld here. This is a long and sacred pastime of we Earth-folk, and we can’t have any of that messing it up.”

“I see,” he says. He glances around, giving a quick once over of your side of the levy as well as the opposite bank. “I also notice that there is no one else here.”

You shrug. “It’s really a shame. The time honored tradition of submarine races have fallen out of favor, being called ‘boring’ by uncultured shit-stains that would rather watch visible tests of performance rather than recognizing the beauty of the element of faith inherent in submarine racing. But you are looking at a true-believer here, Big Guy. It’s me. I will love and cherish the shit out of this sport until the day I die.” 

He stares at you. “Yes. I see.”

“Do you really?” you ask him, smirking. 

He nods. “Yes, I believe that everything you have told me about this event is probably nonsense, and I was likely foolish for believing you to begin with.” 

You clasp a hand to your chest dramatically, and wonder if adding a swoon would be too much. “Equius, you wound me, dude. I am trying to share with you the rich technological heritage of my culture—trying to appeal to our common interest in machinery—and here you are throwing around accusations like that. Why would I lie about this?” 

He frowns at you. “I believe you have hornswoggled me in order to suit your own ulterior motives.” 

You cross your arms, still acting indignant. “Ulterior motives, huh? And what motives would those be?” 

You notice a slight sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on his face. You follow a particular drop of sweat as it runs down his face, dripping onto his collar bone where it slides down the top of an excellently chiseled pec before it disappears into his black wifebeater. You suddenly wish that you could rip the shirt away and watch it continue to highlight his solid abs, falling down into the cut of his groin and down to… Whoa, Dirk, slow your roll. 

He stays quiet for some time, before speaking again, this time less confidently than he had been before. “Well, one such motive might be to get me to come here with you alone. At night, no less, with the moon and the stars shining on the water, in such a scene that my limited knowledge of your Earth cinema seems to suggest could be considered… romantic.” 

You gasp, as if this is the first time such a thought could have ever crossed your innocent mind. “Oh? Oh, well, maybe it could be called romantic. You know, what with it being just you, me, and the submarines. Wow, I would not have thought of that.”

By now he’s pulled out his emergency towel and is dabbing away the sweat. “I believe your shock is actually disingenuous as well. I believe that you actually knew of the possibly romantic overtones of this location all along, and that it was actually the driving force of your deception.” 

“Just what are you trying to accuse me of?” you ask, and if it looked your eyebrows happened to waggle slightly, you would swear that it was just an optical illusion from the glistening of moonlight on the water. 

“I believe that this is actually an elaborate show of red affection.” 

You lean closer to him, and though he bites his lip, he doesn’t back away. “And what would you do if it was?” 

He clears his throat. “Well, had I known beforehand, I would have planned ahead and brought additional towels.” 

You close the gap between you and peck him on the lips. His face flushes blue, and he smiles just a bit. 

“Don’t sweat the sweat, dude. We’re sitting next to this nice refreshing body of water that we can take a dip in if things get too steamy.”

“Wouldn’t that interfere with the race?” he asks, smirking. 

You laugh as you lean in for another kiss, and he wholeheartedly returns it. You grab him by the straps of his wifebeater and pull him down to the ground, because as far as you’re concerned horizontal macking is the best kind. 

As a connoisseur of such things, you would say this is one of the best submarine races you’ve ever been to.


End file.
